


Scars Left Behind

by TeamHPForever



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Spoilers, Blow Jobs, M/M, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:32:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2275044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamHPForever/pseuds/TeamHPForever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Coulson make up for lost time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> I'm rewatching Agents of SHIELD while I wait for the new season and when I saw Coulson's scar in "FZZT" I needed Clint to see it too. There are spoilers through the entire season, including the finale.

Clint can’t believe his luck. Six weeks before he was standing in a Peruvian jungle, waiting for a helicopter that would never come, and now he’s stretched out in Coulson’s bed waiting for him to finish a meeting with his team. He keeps expecting to wake up and find himself rumbling down a dusty road on some bus in South America.

The room is small and sparsely furnished. Just a bed, a small dresser, and some shelves that house some of Coulson’s more valuable collectibles. The others are probably around here somewhere. Maybe in his office. He’ll check that out later.

Coulson opens the door, a smile splitting his face at the sight of Clint. The ex-SHIELD agent blushes as he remembers his reunion with his ex-handler only an hour earlier. How desperate Coulson’s lips had been on his own. How he’d run his hands over every inch of Coulson’s skin that he could reach, just to reassure himself that the man was really alive and there.

“You’re really here,” Coulson murmurs as he shuts the door. He’s still wearing his Kevlar vest and white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, like he’s forgotten to change back into his usual suit. Clint thinks that he’s never looked hotter.

“For as long as you want me to be,” Clint promises, moving over on the bed and patting the blankets beside him. “How was the meeting?”

Coulson shrugs, his face grim, and unzips his vest. “One of my team members is Hydra. One is in the hospital in critical condition. I’m the new Director of SHIELD.”

“Come here.” Clint sits up and pats the bed again. This time Coulson drops the vest to the floor and sits down on the bed. His expression slips, falling into uncertainty. Clint has seen Coulson at his best and his worst, but never like this.

“I’m really—” Coulson starts, but Clint doesn’t give him a chance to finish. Just swings himself into the director’s lap with the ease of long practice. It may have been a while, but Coulson’s hands feel the same as they settle on his hips.

“I know,” Clint whispers, stroking his fingers over a new scar on Coulson’s cheek down to wrap around the back of his neck. “We’ll talk, but not now.”

He doesn’t wait for a protest, just leans down and presses his lips against Coulson’s. The kiss is slow, tentative, and reminds Clint of what he always thought their first would be like. In reality their first kiss was a wild blur of desperation and “thank God you’re alive.” Still fantastic but different.

Coulson traces Clint's bottom lip with his tongue and the archer opens his mouth, letting him in. Coulson tastes like coffee and gunpowder. It's familiar, but strangely unpleasant. Reminds Clint too much of the past few days.

Clint pulls Coulson's lip between his teeth and tugs. He pulls out of the kiss and they lean their foreheads together, breath mingling between them.

"I missed you," Clint whispers, his voice cracking as he remembers the endless days after Coulson's death, the nightmares that woke him up more often than not. If only he hadn't been taken by Loki, then it could have been him instead of Coulson. It should have been him.

"I missed you too," Coulson murmurs back, thumb brushing away a tear that Clint didn't realize had fallen. "I wanted to tell you but..."

"I know." Clint smiles slightly. "Trust the system."

"That went well." Coulson's voice is dark and sarcastic.

"You'll fix it."

Coulson's smile turns a little more genuine. "We'll fix it."

"You really want me in on your new organization?" Clint chuckles as he remembers the struggle that he'd given SHIELD when he first joined. The six handlers he'd gone through before Coulson stepped in and he was in love because he knew what was happening. "I've never been one for playing by the book."

"That's why I need you."

“We’re talking too much,” Clint points out, surging forward into the kiss. Coulson pulls away just long enough to rearrange himself on the bed, so Clint can push him back onto the pillows.

Clint’s black undershirt is the first to go. He reaches for Coulson’s buttons to even the playing field, but the other man stops him with a hand. “The scar…”

Clint hesitates. He’d known there had to be a scar, of course he did, but it was the last thing on his mind when he could feel Coulson’s hardness pressed up against his thigh. He reaches for the buttons again and this time Coulson doesn’t stop him.

The scar is a strip of dark raised skin bisecting his abdomen right below his heart. It’s slightly curved and branches at the top. Clint has to close his eyes and calm his mind to keep himself from going to hunt down Loki _right now._

Clint finishes unfastening the rest of the buttons and pushes the shirt back off Coulson’s shoulders. It falls to the floor, forgotten. Clint leans down for a kiss, quick and sweet, and then makes his way down Coulson’s throat to his chest and finally the scar. He brushes his lips over the rough skin, just the slightest touch, watching Coulson’s face.

His head falls back against the pillows and his back arches and after that there’s only one direction that Clint can consider going. He kisses, large and open-mouthed, down Coulson’s stomach until he reaches the waist of his black slacks.

Clint deftly undoes the button and pulls down the zipper. Coulson lifts up his hips, attempting to help as Clint pulls them down. Clint licks his lips before he takes the head of Coulson’s cock into his mouth.

It’s all so familiar: the slight bitter taste, the velvet hardness, the steady weight of Coulson in his mouth. Clint feels more at home here, kneeling somewhat uncomfortably between Coulson’s legs in a room he’s never been in than anywhere else since his ex-handler died. Clint pulls away to tell him so.

Coulson rests a hand in Clint’s hair and says, “I feel the same way. Now shut up.”

“Yes, sir.” Clint grins at the fondness in Coulson’s voice and takes his cock all the way down with one smooth movement.

“Oh fuck,” Coulson growls, head dropping back onto the pillows. “I almost forgot you could do that.”

Clint decides he’s still talking too much and sucks hard, bringing Coulson into a quivering, groaning mess. It isn’t long before Coulson is tugging on his hair. Clint pulls back slightly and tongues the head, swallowing it all when Coulson comes. From there it’s only a matter of shifting a hand free to wrap around himself.

“You…” Coulson starts to sit up to reciprocate but Clint waves him back down and crawls up to stretch out next to him.

“Next round,” Clint murmurs, nipping at the other man’s throat. “We need to make up for lost time.”

“Does that mean you’ll say yes to being my right-hand man?” Coulson asks, drawing circles on Clint’s arm with the tips of his fingers. The corners of his mouth are quirked up in a smile but his eyes are uncertain. “I don’t know how many people I can trust.”

“Of course.” Clint brushes his lips over the new director’s throat. “My bow is yours.” He snuggles closer, letting himself relax and stare at the ceiling. There will be a lot to do in the morning, but for now it’s just them and that’s enough.


End file.
